Tragic Tale of Dr Vexen, Part II
by FortunaStoryteller
Summary: In this segment of his journal, Vexen recollects the first half of his stay in the castle, where he finds that the division of wicked and pure has a grey area that good can appear as evil and evil wears a lovely facade...
1. Chapter 1

What is the date now? Does it even matter anymore? Confined to the darkness...this cold room of gray stone and nightmares...I feel my mind being pulled back to that terrible place, that place of never ending fear enshrouded in sick beauty every time I lay myself to sleep on the freezing ground. My memories are wild in the waking moments and I am in a constant state of saturnine, broken by flashes of anger or paranoia. All I can think about is the series of events that led me here, starting from my own accursed decision so long ago, when I was too foolish for my own good. Though I long to dream about what might have been, I have made the decision to dedicate my last breaths to retelling what has happened to me in this little book, this miraculous possession I thought I had lost in the castle...  
But I must make haste with this task I've put before me, before it's too late, in hopes to achieve my dying wish: to bring justice upon those who did this to me. Whether Heaven or Hell awaits my soul, I don't have the heart to care, but if I must burn for eternity, then they will all burn with me.  
I breathe, I recollect, I venture back into the demon lair known as Castle Lacoste...

I begin not too far from where I last wrote in this diary, the count had recovered to his fullest and life was becoming routine for me. I would wake from a comfortable sleep, go to the kitchens for breakfast, read of scientific odyssey in the library, and spend the rest of the day pursuing my own experiments in the workroom set aside for my use, taking the briefest pauses for the late meal a servant would deliver to my rooms. Then I would either fall asleep on my desk or somehow find the strength to call it a night and stumble down the hall into my bedroom. When I was happiest, I wouldn't sleep at all; or rather, when I felt close to some new point in my studies the idea of sleep seemed like a waste of precious time. For some reason I had thought to associate sleep with depression, perhaps because of my habit to nap when I was too downhearted, or because I never tired when I was happy.  
But one particular day I was found hunched over my medical journal and a few of the library books by Lexaeus, who shook me awake with somewhat gentle nudging.  
"Good morning doctor." he said as I came out of my doze and mumbled some sort of similar greeting. "The count requests that you join him for breakfast, I advise you do not keep him waiting."  
I was stretching out the soreness in my back, and I responded,  
"Count Marluxia needs to see me? Is something the matter?"  
"Hurry into something presentable and make your way to the parlor. I will show you the way only once."  
"Once? I had thought he merely wanted..."  
"Do not keep him waiting."  
That was all I could find out, even after I had changed and was being led to the room the count expected me in. I could not decide if Lexaeus' silence was due to some quirk in his nature or a general dislike for me. I didn't care much either way, but it would have been better to know what I was getting into.  
The way to the parlor was far, but not hard to memorize, and the door Lexaeus halted at was a few doors away from the Count's sleeping chambers. After a few sharp raps on the large doors, Count Marluxia's voice sounded from inside.  
"Come in doctor." He sounded clearer and deeper in his good health, which I secretly took credit for. As I opened the door I saw Count Marluxia sitting back in his chair as Zexion set the table for two. When his task was completed, he bowed and left, the door shutting with a loud 'click'.  
"Have a seat doctor," he said with a wave and a smile, "I'm glad you could visit." I thought it an inappropriate choice of words seeing as how he, my employer, ordered me to come. I waited for him to begin eating before I touched anything in front of me, I felt that in his presence my every act was being closely inspected, but I passed it off as the general discomfort between people of different ranks.  
"It's been so long," he said, "since we've had a man of science in the castle. Tell me doctor, where did you receive your education?  
"In a monastery near my village."  
He sipped his tea and raised an eyebrow.  
"Are you a holy man then, Dr. Vexen?"  
"Hardly." I didn't think that was the way someone was expected to talk to a nobleman, so I added, "I was able to get an education from a few of the monks, they did not stress religion on me as they now think they should have."  
"An atheist then?  
"Naturally." Again, I didn't know if my speech was too forward or familiar, but the castle's lord just chuckled and said,  
"Naturally...of course. You and I are alike in that aspect, my good doctor."  
He asked me questions about my work, about my studies, about what interested me, to all of it I answered honestly and eagerly. But then my tongue slipped on me,  
"Then what interests you, Count Marluxia?"  
He looked shocked at first, people of lower classes are expressly forbidden to ask questions of their superiors, but his expression returned to light contentment just as quickly. My tongue hurt from having clamped my teeth on it.  
"What interests me? Poetry...and people I suppose..." he lifted his cup to his lips, "and flowers." he drank.  
The meal concluded and Zexion came to clear the table. I was sent on my way.  
"I would very much like to see you tomorrow, Dr. Vexen."  
I nodded, meeting his eye for a second. A very peculiar, very bright, pair of blue eyes held my gaze.  
I thought no more of any of this for the rest of the day; unlike my employer, I had little interest in 'people'.  
These meetings, though an inconvenience to my work, were gradually embedded into my routine. I daresay I began to look forward to them, for the count was an interesting man and he seemed perpetually curious with my work, forever asking what I was studying or experimenting with, though other days he felt the need to gossip to me like an old crone about people he knew from distant places, higher ups from other castles and lines of nobility. It was a few weeks since my first visit when I tested the ice with a second question,  
"Why did you ask me to come here?"  
Count Marluxia blinked and set down his cup and saucer.  
"Beg pardon?"  
The ice, it seemed, was thinner than I thought.  
"I only mean that...it seems unusual to me that a lord such as yourself would associate with someone who wasn't equal in class with you."  
"I see." He stood up, I slowly remembered that I couldn't sit while a lord was standing and rose as well. "So tell me, my good doctor," he was now wandering about the room in a path that did circles around me, "being such a lord, do you think I need to explain myself to someone who, as you mentioned, in not my equal in rank or station?" I had hoped with all my heart he was being rhetorical, for I wouldn't have known what to say. "I will tell you, Dr. Vexen, something you cannot find in any book ever written. Look outside, you see past the hedge maze is a formation of mountains, beyond that is a village, beyond that is miles and miles of field and forest stretching out to the boundaries of the next province. Not one bit of it, not one blade of grass or hair on a common head belongs to anyone but me. Not to any god, not even to King Xemnas, but to me, the Count of Castle Lacoste." He faced away from me, towards a large cabinet against the wall which he began to open. "So I'll tell you what I think of these rules of formality that keep society together." He withdrew a bottle of wine and two glasses. "I don't give a damn." He poured the wine and offered a goblet to me like an honored guest. "There are no courtiers to keep me company, and my wife doesn't enjoy the art of conversation that intellectuals, such as you and I, take pleasure in. These lands are my empire, and if I so choose to spend my morning meal with my court physician, let anyone tell me otherwise."  
The most sensible thought in my head was that it was too early to have such a rich drink, the rest of my senses were in a state of confusion.  
"Do others in the nobility share your sentiments?" He sighed at my question,  
"Few and far between. That's why I've learned that there are times to play the Game, and there are times to play games. Right now, Vexen, is the time to play games."  
He raised his glass up high.  
"Drink, laugh, be merry, and enjoy life in its passion...and its madness."  
Confused and unsure, I drank to that with him. He put the half-finished bottle away when Zexion came to clear the table.  
"As for your question, doctor," he was smiling calmly once again, all traces of outburst vanished into the air, "I believe that you are a man of great intelligence, poise, and virtue. Why should I not desire to pass my time with such a companion?"  
I thought for a long while on all of this for the rest of the day, and I didn't know why his words both inspired and frightened me.

The next morning I was recollecting a dream. I didn't dream very often, when I did they were hardly memorable, but this one was powerful and vivid. From what I remembered, I was in my workroom looking out the window to see a black shrouded fiend, waving a torch in one hand and the reigns of two mighty black horses in the other. The creature howled in mad triumph as it drove a caravan hooded by a black tarp. Then as it disappeared, I heard a sharp scream and then... nothing.   
I came quickly to the parlor, and made my entrance just as Zexion was leaving. The table was set for three.  
"Will the countess be joining us?" I now felt I could ask whatever I wanted.  
"Hm? Oh no, Larxene enjoys breakfast in solitude. The Captain of my guard has returned from a little errand I sent him on; I was hoping to introduce you both."  
I took my seat at his side and faced the door in anticipation for the arrival of the third man. Count Marluxia stared intently at the door, obviously amused.  
"He's an interesting fellow," he told me, "but has a few key flaws, one of them is his curse of being at least five minutes late for everything. Sugar and cream for your tea?"  
"Thank you, sir."  
Soon the door abruptly flew open with a loud crash and a tall man all but fell into the room.  
"Sorry I'm late, Lexaeus just woke me up a few minutes ago and my..."  
A moment passed where he observed me and I observed him. After all I had seen of Lacoste's meticulously designed elegance and Count Marluxia's own taste in refinement and beauty, the intrusion of this wild creature was hardly expected; he was tall, thin, pale as death, and sported a pair of markings under his eyes that reminded me of uncivilized bands of heathens who branded themselves as a sort of ritual. His hair was red, an untamed mess that flew in each direction and his eyes were a brighter green than my own. He gracelessly sat in the remaining chair and turned to the count to say,  
"So, what do we have here?" He tactlessly pointed at me like an out of place miscreant! Count Marluxia idly stirred his tea with a silver spoon and responded,   
"This would be the new Court Physician, Dr. Vexen. Vexen, I'm pleased to introduce you to my most loyal guard, Axel."  
"A pleasure." I said stiffly.  
"No, no," he said, downing the tea in a gulp, "the pleasure is mine."  
My pride still intact, I asked the count what sort of errand Axel had been sent on. The head of guard answered,  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
I raised an eyebrow to his challenge,  
"Try me," I said, mustering my confidence, "I've seen and heard many unbelievable things in my life."  
When Axel sneered, I glared, when his eyes flickered from the count to me, I steadfastly locked my gaze on him, edging him on in my own way. Then Axel answered with,  
"I was getting him more flowers for his precious labyrinth garden. It's degrading work actually, finding all those weeds for his obsessive lordship." He needlessly and rudely pointed his thumb at the count, who was watching the exchange passively and didn't so much as blink as his 'loyal guard' blatantly insulted him. But Axel didn't even stop there, he felt the need to add in, "But at least I can actually enjoy the outside, instead of rotting away in a boring life of musty old books."  
"I am a doctor. While you were 'enjoying the outside' I was curing the count and many of the staff here of a deadly plague."  
"So you think that you're a saint then, don't you? Did Fate make you some kind of miracle man? Can you cure everything?!"  
An edge of hysteria none to subtly crept into his tone, giving it an animal-like quality, "You know nothing at all! If you think that you can cheat death, then you must be the most ignorant man alive! You're a fool, you old man! A fool!"  
The count cleared his throat loudly.  
"Axel," he said cheerfully, "Zexion said earlier you got me a present."  
My ego bruised and my rage building, I almost told Axel off anyway, but he stood and headed towards the door, muttering something about going to get it.  
I was no fool. My life was a quest to discover answers to all life's questions, my purpose was to cure the sick and dying, thus lessening the suffering of the world and pushing back the inevitable...human expiration date. My position, in my mind, was far above that of a simple errand boy who was forced to go wherever his lord desired, even to as menial a task as collecting garden flowers. The occupation of doctor was even above that of a lord, who is born into the role without having to struggle for it. I was most certainly not a fool.


	2. Chapter 2

Axel returned a short time later, a young man with him; he was young and dressed as a performer from the circus, in one hand he held a lyre, in the other a small bag, on his face a wide smile of paint and a happy smile of lips and teeth.  
"This is Demyx" Axel said, patting the boy's back, "I found him out of a job and on the road, so I asked if he wanted to work for a count. What do you say?" Count Marluxia looked at the boy intensely and then asked,  
"What can you do?"  
The boy bowed very deeply, looking awkward and rushed, saying,  
"So please your lordship, I sing, play, juggle, and I was an acrobat in the circus."  
"Show me."  
Demyx removed seven or eight brightly colored balls from his bag and maneuvered them expertly through the air, I was already impressed by this feat, even more so when he began catching them behind his back and on his nose or bounced them on his elbows and knees, all a perfect performance done with complete focus, without fear of failure.  
Next, he performed a series of complex physical acts that involved rapid aerial stunts in quick succession and displays of flexibility in ways I did not know a human was supposed to bend.  
"And what song would your lordship like to hear?" Demyx asked as he picked up the lyre.  
"Any song that will convince me to keep you," he responded dryly, "don't hesitate to impress me."  
The poor boy squeaked and nearly dropped his instrument. Against the wall Axel was laughing at him, and I alone took pity on him to give him a nod of encouragement, whispering to him,  
"Go on."  
At that, Demyx played a few notes and broke out into song. He used the lyre expertly and sang us a story about a foolish young girl who wanted to marry the Spirit of Winter. When this spirit refused her love, she flung herself into a pond and was encased under a layer of ice, so when the Spirit realized his true feelings, she was already dead. It's odd, but all the saddest stories have winter in them, I think, and I myself pitied the maiden, if only because young Demyx's singing was so enchanting.  
As the last note faded into the air, Count Marluxia's applause echoed throughout the room.  
"What a charming little musician. Vexen, was that not a lovely song?"   
"Indeed it was." Demyx smiled brightly and bowed.   
"Thank you milord. Thank you, thank you!"  
The count flicked his wrist at Axel and said,  
"Take my new fool up to the countess, would you? She's in her study." Then as they were leaving he added, "Are the flowers in the garden?"   
Axel's smile reached the marks on his face when he said,  
"Come on, you trust me more than that, don't you my liege?"  
"I trust you enough to find me the most beautiful flowers," the count poured himself another cup of tea, "but I want assurance you got the job done right."  
The guard crossed his arms and clicked his tongue impatiently.  
"The flowers are in the garden, arranged just as you like them. Everything's been taken care of, all they need now is to pass your inspection, which I don't doubt they will."  
"You have a habit of disappointing me though, Axel. Are they tender young buds like I requested, or did you forget that detail? The whole point to my gardening is that I wish to raise them to maturity myself."  
"Then be at ease, they're all as young and healthy as I could find, green down to the last one. Now excuse me as I run this delivery, Countess Larxene would appreciate the company of a fool..."  
"I hope this delivery is better than the last, I detest disappointment and I find your taste somewhat lacking."  
Axel's eyes drifted curiously towards me and back again.  
"Well, I'm beginning to think you've got no taste at all."  
Count Marluxia choked on his tea and laughed out,  
"Nicely put, Axel. You're right in that we must not keep my dear Larxene waiting, she'd enjoy the company of a...talented young bard."  
Axel and Demyx left the room and I was about to leave as well when I had the urge to ask,   
"Is the countess always alone?"  
He responded with faint surprise, covering his bewilderment that I even thought to ask that.  
"My lovely Larxene? Of course not, she usually spends mornings in her study and has afternoon tea with me. You see, she prefers solitude to dull company and she's even more selective than I am about who she spends her time with."  
"So you don't," I hesitantly stated, "have bad relations with her?"   
He chuckled and looked at me with a mischievous glimmer in his eye as he said to me, "We get along splendidly, no doubt about that. We drink the best tea in the late afternoons, followed by dinner and wine, and then we entertain each other until the early morning hours."  
Zexion entered to clear the table. "Good day, Dr. Vexen."  
I remember that I didn't get much done that night for being so sore about the captain's accusations. I also remember I slept without dreams.  
Axel only came to breakfast that once, after that I dined with the count alone. I never knew what he did after morning tea, and I wasn't curious enough to ask. I found out from Zexion, one day in the library, that the count spent most of his hours in the labyrinth garden he was so fond of. I did meet with the little jester again, however, he came down with a cold and was sent straightaway to my workplace.  
"This always happens, every winter." he said as I made a syrup to stop the hacking that broke into his every few words.  
"Stay out of the cold," I advised, "and try to keep yourself warm at night."   
Demyx chirped, "Will do sir, not that I have much else to look after apart from my health."  
"Take care of yourself. After all, who else would be able to entertain the countess?"  
He smiled sheepishly and wrung his hands, having no juggling balls to hold.  
"The countess stopped calling me a few days ago," he sadly declared, "I think she's grown bored with me."  
I didn't think much of his down-hearted tone, I found I couldn't relate to it, I just handed him the flask and ordered him to drink it all down and not complain about the taste.  
"Do you like Count Marluxia?" Demyx asked after handing me the empty cup.  
"He's an interesting man," I said after some thought, "who comes from nobility and has embodied all their graces. He is educated, courtly, and has a fine taste in tea, though he devotion to flowers concerns me from time to time..."  
"No," he interrupted, "I meant...oh, never mind."  
I was having trouble balancing the tasks of working on my research and listening to the jester prattle so I exclaimed,  
"Out with it boy! I don't have all day, just say what it is and leave!"

"Is Count Marluxia your friend?"

Demyx regretted saying those words; his face pulled in like he was expecting a blow and his hands were nervous fists at his sides. What came from me was not an attack but a strangled response,  
"That is preposterous! He just uses me as morning company for a lack of courtiers, we don't have the emotional ties you are referring to. He is a lord after all, and I'm..."  
"A peasant?" His expression was so timid and saintly I mistook it as condescending.  
"I am not a peasant! I was going to say that I hold the equivalent position of a minor church official, which is more than I can say about you in any case." Demyx took a step back and nodded his head in a single slow motion.  
"I see. Forgive me doctor, I was out of line." Then he dropped to his knees and pleaded, "Please don't tell the count! I'll never, ever be insubordinate again!"  
I dropped my pen mid sentence and didn't bother to pick it up.  
"What on Earth are you wailing for? Why would I say such a thing to Count Marluxia?"  
He knelt there on the ground, sobbing and trembling, saying to me,  
"Axel told me that I should never ever get out of line in this place, and that if milord was ever displeased with me, I'd be killed and replaced without a second thought!"  
The very idea, I thought, was completely absurd; I couldn't see the amiable Count Marluxia, who was so against the hierarchy of society, to order execution for something so trivial.   
"Don't pay Axel any mind, he's the scourge of humanity."   
"Oh," Demyx said as he dried his eyes, "well, he did have the heart to take me in though, right? He could have left me to die on the streets where he found me, so in a way he saved my life."  
"Where did he find you?"  
He assumed a sitting position, realizing that the danger had passed and said,  
"I was kicked out of the circus a few days prior and I only had enough money to get myself drunk. So there I was, out on the dark roads of the village of Hollow Bastion with my juggling balls and lyre; too drunk to stand but too sober to cry, and then Axel came along in a riding coat, pulling a cart with the Count's delivery. He asked why a circus man was out on the street and then proposed the court jester position.  
"It got a little hazy after that, because the next thing he did was bring me to a bar to get me some more drinks and talk. He said he would take me to Lacoste as long as I followed all of his conditions: I would do as I was told without questions, I would never go outside, I would never enter any door that was closed without being bidden, I would never enter the Western Wing without and order from Axel, milord, or milady. I would drop any subject that was refused to be spoken of, and I would not look inside of the cart."  
Axel was most certainly insane, I thought, to impose so many groundless restrictions on the young man...perhaps he was just that cruel.  
"He's obviously trying to scare you, the count isn't anyone to be afraid of."  
Demyx's expression softened until it was his naturally cheerful disposition.  
"You're right doctor, I'm being frightened about gossip and nothing more. I shall just put these worries aside and practice my act, maybe write a new song!"  
"That's wonderful," I said, finally reaching down to retrieve my pen, "but I have research to attend to and I've put it off long enough, so if you could just..."   
"Right, say no more, I'll just go now." To my amusement and annoyance he did back-handsprings to the door and with a friendly wave said, "Thanks for everything!" before bounding down the hall.  
The night's efforts turned out to be, as usual, hardly the success I'd been expecting, and I returned to my room to get some sleep. As I looked outside, I found myself alert and restless, because I was remembering my nightmare about the black ghoul. It was foolish and unfounded, yes, but it was only to be expected when my upbringing before my studies were filled with superstitions and tales of poltergeists and vampires and other creatures of imagination. My mother and father, both stricken down respectively by disease and broken heart in my youth, found it vital to relay these stories to me, as they believed that those monsters walked among us and were a danger to us. In the monastery, I learned about creatures created by the forces of evil, demons of greed and pride. Though I never believed in any of those creatures, my mind did not, could not, draw a more sensible conclusion, so I decided that the specter was merely a nightmare, a ghoul in it's own respect, a beast that rode through the world of sleep, not the world of men.   
That night I dreamed of Hell, and the shrieks and screams of the condemned souls were outside my window and around my ears. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you alright doctor? You seem very tired," the count told me the next day, "are you sleeping well?"

"I've been kept up by my work, nothing of great concern." I drank the tea in an attempt to keep myself awake.

"It is of great concern to me," he said gently, "if my good doctor, who can cure the plague and cheat death itself, has taken ill, my whole world should be thrown into chaos. Perhaps the wisest action would be to stop working so hard, it's not healthy to be as stressed as you are."

My head ached from lack of sleep and I fought the urge to rest my eyes there at the table, if not fall into slumber where I was sitting.

"No, I'm really quite alright; the turbulent mind creates a turbulent imagination, that's all."

Count Marluxia looked up from his tea.

"You've been dreaming?"

I put down my cup and folded my hands as I inwardly reasoned the best method in which I could explain these visions. I averted my eyes as I told him briefly of the black goblin and the nightmares. Count Marluxia was pale from my narration and said to me,

"You poor man, what a terrifying sight that must have been, a monster such as that...what sort of thing did you say it was? A goblin?"

"Yes, that or a wraith. Although, the screams I heard were closer to a banshee than any other creature. But it's not that I believe in any of these sorts of things, Count Marluxia, I am merely relating these dreams to local fables from my childhood. Clearly they are only dreams, nothing that would appear in our rational world."

He smiled a little.

"Yes, if you can assume our world is rational. But I seem to have picked up on something from this conversation, my good doctor, as you've mentioned goblins, wraiths, and banshees. Correct me if I'm wrong, but are these not stories from the eastern reaches of the country?"

"I'm from the East," I explained, a little confused since I had thought he would have known, having sent for me, "I was born in the village of Radiant Garden, it's but a week's journey from here."

"Near the mountains?" His eyes, which were now locked with mine, took on a hue of fascination, so without a thought I said,

"Actually, they're far in the mountains, that's why it takes so long. Not many people know about it because it's so remote."

He pondered for a moment and then tasted the name on his tongue,

"Radiant Garden..." he came to some sort of a conclusion in his head, so he mused, "Such a lovely name for a town, surely it must be home to many lovely people, as well as many lovely flowers. Do you think that the mountain flowers are exquisite and beautiful enough to be worth sending Axel on a quick excursion to collect some?"

The thought of ridding the castle of that infuriating creature, who had taken to tripping me in the hallways as I passed and who I suspected was to blame for more than a few missing salves, was a liberating idea; I began to describe, to the best of my ability, greatly exaggerated versions of the flowers in the village, by my words they were sweetly perfumed and had impressive colors and beautifully delicate petals. Count Marluxia needed only directions, which I quickly and eagerly supplied, before heading off to find his Captain of Guard.

Later that day I heard a furious Axel shouting at the head servants,

"What do you mean he wants me to go out again?! I just got back with the others, now he wants me to load up and run to the mountains? I don't have time for this! I need to..."

"We know this is frustrating for you Axel," Zexion's tone was that of a worn-out phrase for a tiresome topic, "but just remember that you made a deal with him, and we are all bound to serve him."

Axel sneered, snatching the riding cloak Zexion was holding out to him.

"He's a Count, not a King. Where does he get the nerve to go spouting out these wild demands and expecting me to hop to it without a moment's notice?"

Lexaeus had a low voice that commanded the attention of both his companions, "He may not be a King, but we must treat him as a god, or we know what consequences we face."

Zexion cast his eyes to the ground and Axel draped the cloak over himself.

"What are you two guilty of?" Axel asked quietly.

"Everything you are."

Axel smirked, and then a collective silence passed. I wished that, from where I stood, I could hear the thoughts held in each of them, if only to fill the obvious gaps of the story. With a sigh, Axel turned and strode down the hallway, each step echoing and fading. Zexion slumped against a wall and said something I couldn't hear. Only Lexaeus seemed truly aware of that which was outside of his private thoughts, he proved this with his casual,

"Good evening, Dr. Vexen."

That night my dreams were of wild dogs howling into the night, and against my urge to sleep I tried to keep myself up by reading. Anything would suffice if it would keep my nightmares at bay. I dozed off sometime from genuine fatigue, and heard not only the beasts again, but a sharp human scream.

The following days without Axel were quite peaceful; as I suspected, my things stopped disappearing and I was able to walk down the halls unimpeded. Work went well, my morning conversations with the count remained pleasant, and occasionally Demyx would stop by in my workplace for moments at a time. He had a sunny disposition but, to my annoyance, expressed it by giving performances of his juggling or musical capabilities mid-conversation. He was pleasant enough that I didn't reject his random visits, but he was bothersome enough to prevent me from actually inviting him.

"The countess is asking for me again!" he announced gleefully one afternoon, "The count as well! I've been practicing new juggling tricks, would you like to see?"

I was in the middle of mixing a rather delicate solution that needed to be treated cautiously, so I replied offhand,

"I'd rather you not."

He sighed loudly, so I added, "Perhaps another time Demyx, not now."

"My next performance? I would really like for you to come see."

Even though I would have preferred to stay with my work, I could not deny that offers like that did not come my way often, especially from someone so eager for my attendance they would plead for it with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Provided," I stated, "I have the time and Count Marluxia doesn't mind, I don't see why not."

This made Demyx ecstatic, but to my dismay he began to cartwheel and jump about, making me fear for the carefully organized notes and the chemicals I kept in the room.

"Be careful!" I snapped to the bouncing fool, "You'll break something if you don't watch it!"

"Not at all!" He responded while balancing on both his hands. Pushing himself right side up he boasted, "When I flip through the air I always land on my feet, when I play a song I hit every right note, and everything I throw into the air I catch again without fail."

I rolled my eyes; youth and all it's arrogance, I thought. Not that I was a Believer, but Pride was the worst of deadly sins, and as a scientist I was always warned about getting caught up in my own arrogance. I never did.

After a few nights I saw my dream-time nemesis, the Black Ghoul, once more. He whooped and hollered as he pulled back on the reigns of the thrashing horses, flailing the torch around him so that I caught a glimpse of skeletal skin under the hood. I thought to myself, is this death? Is this one of the Hell fiends sent by the Adversary to drag the sinful into the abyss, one of the monsters I had been warned of but refused to believe existed solely because there was not enough evidence for my mind to wrap around? And if this creature was merely delivering the accursed to their judgment, what manner of beast was under the shroud of the caravan? What kind of creature was it that shrieked such a grotesque wail and made my own heart race in fear? Probably something even worse...

The next day I attended Demyx's performance in the grand hall; Count Marluxia and his wife were seated on a pair of heavily decorated thrones, I was told to stand at Countess Larxene's left. Axel stood at Count Marluxia's right. Why that odious character had to return just in time to ruin my day could only be explained as the closest I had ever gotten to divine punishment.

But when Demyx began his show, I forgot all about that ruffian. The jester had great skill when it came to his arts, he expertly played a variety of peculiar instruments, ranging from his own lyre to a stringed instrument he called a sitar. The count was smiling, but his wife was not as impressed.

"This is beginning to bore me," she complained, "I want to see his juggling."

The countess had a pretty voice, but she only used it for sharp comments and insults that bordered along cruel. I didn't know why the count put up with her, but he gave Demyx an order in a look and the instruments were replaced by his juggling balls. He displayed new stunts; he brought four more than his original eight, and he didn't drop one as he stood while balanced on a tilting platform, or as he tossed each sphere up and caught them in a jug balanced on his head. Demyx always smiled as he performed with both his clownish make-up and his true face. The colored orbs gleamed and blended beautifully in the air, and Demyx caught each of them easily and released them again in a captivating rhythm; a dozen bright colors and one brightly shining entertainer.

"Enough!" Countess Larxene shouted from her throne. "Your performance still ceases to impress me, little boy."

Now only one smile remained on his face. The painted one, the counterfeit one. The other vanished in an instant.

"My lady..." he stuttered, "if there is anything I can do..."

The countess finally smiled. The count as well was pleased. Axel wiped his face of whatever he was feeling (and on recollection, I almost think it was worry...) and stayed dutifully silent and unresponsive.

"Doctor," said the countess, her eyes fixed on Demyx, "behind my chair is a little black case, pull it out and hand it to me." A long narrow case was stored there, though I didn't know of anything designed for such a container. "Come here, jester, I would like you to juggle these." Demyx softly approached and the countess threw back the lid of the case. A dozen gleaming knives rested within.

"I...don't know how to juggle knives..." he murmured, his hands trembling. Countess Larxene smiled, not even feigning good nature, and told him,

"I want to see you use these. It would certainly liven up the performance, don't you agree Marluxia?"

"Whatever makes you happy, dearest Larxene."

Demyx looked hesitantly between the count and countess, then at me. At the time I suppose I really did believe he could catch anything he tossed. I made myself smile and I nodded to him. "Go on" I silently urged.

He picked up each of the twelve knives with his bare hands and held them all by the handle, looking at the weapons in fear. I wanted to tell Count Marluxia to stop the countess' madness, but I turned and saw the count smiling; that smile he used to greet me in the mornings was also used to watch Demyx throw the daggers into the air and dance with death.

Demyx's mouth was taught and his eyes were wide. The knives came up and down haphazardly as he fought to avoid the glistening metal that blurred in the air, whistling with each catch and throw. He tried to maintain stability, but the knives were not balanced like the orbs were. One of the knives flew out of his hand. His fist closed around the blade.

Eleven knives fell and crashed onto the floor, resonating throughout the hall. Demyx fell to his knees, the twelvth, blood-soaked knife slid off his palm and clattered dully with the others. He bowed his head and apologized.

Countess Larxene was enraged. With a sweep of her gown, she stormed out of the room, cursing the jester's 'incompetence'. The count was dangerously still. I watched his cold uncaring gaze break into Demyx's heart and mind, and I found I could not recognize the man I once held with such respect.

_Are you the count's friend?_

If I ever was, I certainly silenced all thought at that moment considering how such a 'friendship' would ever continue.

The count arose slowly and told Axel to clean the filth off the countess' knives, and then left to find his wife. I walked over to Demyx's side, with the intention of bringing him to my infirmary to clean and dress the wound. He was crying.

"You'll be alright," I said as gently as I could, "come with me."

He stood up with his tears still flowing freely; they erased his face paint. Now there was no smile at all, and he followed me broken and defeated with blood spilling from his palm onto the white floor.

When we arrived at the infirmary I set to work with his injury. I wiped off the blood with a damp cloth and applied a paste that prevented infection before bandaging it.

"It hurts," he whispered through the tears, "it hurts so much."

I finished wrapping his hand before responding,

"I'm sure it does. Had the blade gone any deeper I would have had to stitch the wound."

He shook his head miserably.

"No, not just my hand. Here," he touched his chest above his heart, "is where it really hurts. This pain makes me...loose the will to live."

I looked only at the wound, barely maintaining the distance from humanity my practice called on. Physical injury was in my grasp of understanding, while Demyx's words were not.

"You'll be fine." This I stated while trying not to hear his sorrow. "Rest your hand for a bit, and in a few days I can remove the bandages."

"Please," he cried, "what can I do? The countess will have me hanged for this, and all because I couldn't..."

"Don't be absurd, at the very most they'll refuse to see you until they find themselves so _bored_ with their lives that they forget about this little incident."

"But Axel..." he was beginning to hiccup while he spoke.

I tried to make him give up on his fears of that man, "He's filled your head with fear by spinning lies about everything. Don't listen to that storyteller; he's just the count's lackey who's gotten too big for his boots, nothing more."

"When he told me about this place," Demyx said, eyes wide and red, "he was as serious as death."

At the mention of the word 'death' I thought of the grim and ghastly nightmare that had been haunting me, at the time an inconvenient flash of memory. Trying to reassure Demyx, I put the monster out of my mind and said,

"Death is but a jest to men of his kind. You must believe me when I say that the whole thing was a tall tale that would put you in such a depression. Not only that, but I'm sure there must be some that exist in your imagination, being as drunk as you said you were."

I no longer had the strength to look him in his eyes, yet his sorrow was palpable and hung in the air like a thick fog. "Go and rest now. If the blood soaks through I'll get you some more bandages, but don't dwell in this melancholia."

"Help me," he begged quietly, "please help me."

I started to turn back to my lab table, with my books and research unattended and needing completion; a place for my mind, where sense and stability made a home.

"There's nothing more I can do, Demyx. I know only how to treat the sick of body, not the sick of heart."

He weakly grabbed my sleeve, the force of desperation stopped me where I stood and wouldn't let go.

"You're the only one who can." He tugged at the material with pathetic resolve, and then turned my head with his bandaged hand, the material rough and warm against my skin.

His eyes were overflowing blue oceans, water trickled from them and made riverbeds of his cheeks. He said my name once before pressing his lips to mine.

Timid and innocent and warm, the gentle simplicity of the action stole the breath from my body, his sweet, desperate need could be communicated by touch alone, and I knew that slowly, surely, his heart was relieved...

But it was wrong. Wicked, impure, the capital sin of Lust, punished once and still punishable by death. I shoved him away with a force that threw him into the wall, away from me.

"Get out." I commanded with a voice of finality. Get out and away and stop corrupting me, your innocence and your wickedness both at once frightens me. He froze on the spot, his heart beaten and broken again, then fled the room and left me with my lips having been defiled and kissed for the first time in my many years of life.

How else, I reasoned, how else could I respond to his advance? Wrong was still wrong no matter which way I looked at it, and yet I needed to look at myself and wonder: by being taught among the monks and the priests raised to heed the Church's dogma, had I unknowingly taken the same vows of carnal purity? To remain free of sin, even if I had cast aside the belief of the Almighty out of sorrow for the parents He could neither save nor revive? Abomination is how I was taught to classify what had happened...but the loneliness devoured me as I stood in the dark without a soul to call my friend.

I went to bed with a minimal amount of work done, and pressed my head against the pillow with hope of sleep, but I wasn't fortunate enough to have a dreamless escape from my problems. The Ghoul appeared again, but this time inside the castle, and the screaming was inside the hallway, human words screeched into my ears,

"Let me go! Let me go! Help me!"

My door was open for me to see a billowing black cloak moving across the portal, along with the face of a skeleton and the torch of Hellfire, dragging Demyx behind him.

He was, I thought, surely not such a sinner that he deserved to be dragged to an eternal torment! I jumped up and rant to face the nightmare, with hopes that I could overcome the nightmare once and for all...

When I hit the ground from the monster's blow and lost consciousness, I realized I wasn't dreaming to begin with.

I woke up on the floor next to my bed, a hot bruise on my forehead and my heart filled with fear. The being of my nightmare...was of flesh and bone. Those things I had thought to be dreams were really a fantastic reality I had managed to _confuse _for a dream. The demon, I realized, was nothing but a man. A man, I remembered, who had Demyx. Without a second thought, I picked myself up and dashed down the hallway of Castle Lacoste, taking all the familiar turns until I reached my destination, the parlor in the West Wing.

"You're late," He said as he poured us tea, "you usually come at least ten minutes earlier."

"Count Marluxia, something terrible has happened!"

Eyes unfathomably blue and the wrong shade of warm now bore into my mind, searching out my thoughts...but it was like...

"Have a seat, good doctor; I'm sure it's nothing."

...he already knew what my thoughts were.

"Hear me out!" I demanded. His expression morphed before my eyes into something more than mere displeasure. "Please," I said, "it's the jester, Demyx- he's been taken by a man in black. It happened last night, outside my door, and the monster..."

"That's enough, Vexen."

Most people became louder when they displayed their anger, and the loudness would command fear. The count spoke notches above a whisper and was indeed much more frightening. "I have personally dismissed that foolish knife-juggler. He was not worthy of my court."

The two cups remained eerily untouched on the table. There was no sugar bowl, no cream, no scones, and no saucers. Just a teapot of white china and two teacups filled with poison.

"It was a simple mistake," I argued, "Surely you of all people can understand that!"

He rested his head on elegant fingers, his eyes still clawed at me with the power of the beast; his expression lost all semblance of patience.

"I of all people. What, pray tell, do you exactly mean by that?" I tried to spit out an answer, but he raised his hand to silence me. "Could you be implying that I should have to bear the presence of unwanted servants? He was my employee; I simply decided his services as a jester were no longer needed."

"But surely you can see the countess was being unreasonable! Demyx only wanted to please you both, and you throw him aside at the slightest error!"

"All I see," he chided darkly, "is that you are forgetting your place here, my good Doctor Vexen."

"My place?!" I was on the verge of hysteria from being forced to take in so much revelation in so little a time, "This coming from the man who claimed he didn't care about social standing and the roles we are born with!"

"My poor, poor, Doctor Vexen..." The count leaned back in his chair and tilted his head up at me. "You presume so much and yet you understand so little. You don't surely think I've been keeping you around for the conversation and the off-chance I may need a doctor again?" I thought he had meant all that he had said before. That was a mistake. "You have dedicated your life to science, and men of science are regarded as men of great virtue...but time and time again proven to possess a god-like arrogance." Those were words that could sting by hearing them, his smile cut through my sense of peace. "I love talking to you, Vexen. I love it because you are so presumptuous when you're talking to me. So naive. Most people, if I extended these opportunities to be open with a superior, would remain at least a bit safely reserved. You blundered right on through, breaking rule after rule after rule and you assumed no one would care because your world revolves around you."

"C-count Marluxia..."

"Vexen...poor dear Vexen... your mistakes are what make you attractive to me. How you do as you please, you think that whatever you say and whatever action you take is the right action, probably because you're a good man, am I right? But in this world of imperfect people, I'm afraid that you have not even come to see the terror that is this human race. You are a late-bloomer, in my terms, that you have not yet leaned that there is no such thing as a good man, or an honest man, and that holding such delusions that there are make you blind to what happens under your own nose."

He was thoroughly lodged under my skin, squirming about, and I only wished he would be silent.

"It's funny,"

I wanted him to be silent.

"After all this time, did you really think I kept you around because I needed a doctor?"

His voice was unbearable...

"You're wonderfully amusing doctor, I don't tire of you like I tire of jesters and clowns and the like. What need have I for their dull company? I have the funniest fool in the whole world right..."

I grabbed the teacup that was set for me and threw the contents in his face. Then I broke it on the ground.

In silence he calculated, wiped his face with a handkerchief, and decided my sentence. A verdict was not needed; I was guilty without a trial.

"Wrath is a deadly sin," the atheist said, and though I knew that I myself was an atheist too, I couldn't help but feel that some god was there, neither all powerful nor all good, causing terrible things to happen. "And yet you know so little of evil, my holy man. If you want to find the jester, you must ask Axel to borrow a horse. His room is down the hall, the last door to the left. The door is always open, but take care to be quiet. I cannot promise what will happen to you if he is disturbed, nor can I guarantee your own safety."

He stood, smaller in height and taller in every other way. "I've decided I no longer need a doctor."

That was it then, I had thought. I'd lost my job and good standing to a morally incorrect circus clown. I threw the other cup against the wall.

Never having been so deep in the West Wing, I looked about the place with paranoia; there was something that lurked in each possible hiding place to my terrified mind. I reached the door the count described, his warning echoed in my mind. Why was the castle sworn to such secrecy? The servants who never spoke of what they knew, the rider in black, the countess hidden in her library, the count and his gardens...the labyrinth outside Lacoste, filled with exquisite flowers to beautiful for the eyes of a mere 'commoner'.

My common eyes saw into that room. That door should have been locked.

"Alright, can you sit still? I just need to change the bandages..." That was Axel's voice; he carried a roll of bandages and ointment from a familiar bottle.

"Smells terrible. Where'd you get it, the doctor?"

I flushed at the insult, ready to storm in on their conversation and make my demands, but I was held back by damnable curiosity. Axel unraveled the bandages on the other's torso, the other being a boy of roughly sixteen with tufts of feathery blonde hair, to reveal the most gruesome burn wounds I'd ever faced in my lifetime. Why hadn't the boy been brought to me? Surely Axel's pride and hate for me wasn't enough to keep the child locked in a room to suffer such an injury...

"It stings, Axel."

The captain laughed in good nature, it was a shocking sound to hear.

"Don't worry Roxas; I'll take good care of you."

When Axel finished to the best of his untrained ability, I expected him to put the excess material away and leave the boy to rest, providing me with a chance to ask for a horse.

Axel sat with the boy on the bed; he had the youth's shirt to be put back over the bandages. The boy took the garment, and he threw it to the ground and pushed Axel into the mattress. Axel laughed and moaned as the child (and yet less of a child and more of a monster) attacked him with feverish kisses. The man I loathed, now despised, shrugged off his own shirt and pulled the boy into a tight embrace and kissed his mouth hungrily, their serpentine tongues danced in plain sight, they smiled lovingly as they damned themselves...

I didn't stop running until I reached the east most wing, where the public library was kept. I rushed inside and sat against the bookshelf I frequented, trying to make myself forget everything. But to no avail,

"Pitiful man. He came here on his own accord too..."

I was about to learn more.

"Lexaeus, we all came on free will; the count couldn't force us to serve him." I only heard their voices, the head servants of the castle.

"We hardly had a choice."

"At the time we thought working for the count would be better than the gallows, but do you regret that choice?"

I didn't understand Zexion at all; the story was still too unclear.

"I ask myself that too often. It is better to take these things day by day and breath by breath."

Only criminals are punished by gallows...

"It is not safe here any more!" Then more quietly, "Axel is becoming careless. He's been seen too often, and if people start looking here..."

"Zexion, you're only scaring yourself. Nobody knows enough to go searching this place."

...So what was their crime?

"The doctor?"

"He doesn't know anything. It's depressing to me, I wonder if he had higher expectations for this place."

"Castle Lacoste...well Lexaeus, I suppose you and I had higher expectations ourselves."

"Castle Lacoste...you know, I was talking to Axel about the outside, and before he started his rounds he picked up a rumor about this place."

"What?!"

"Not this place in particular, but people know that things have gone missing and do not return, so I assume that they speak of this place without knowing what they speak of."

_We're guilty of your crime_

"They call this place Castle Oblivion."

Oh God, them too.

I forced myself to head off to my room to pack. Horse or no horse, I could not stay in that terrible place. I packed away my clothes, my munny, and all my books (including his journal), and put them in a bag. I didn't know where the nearest town was, what's more it was raining furiously, but my only plan was to follow the main road until I found shelter or dropped dead.

Lightning flared and lit up my former quarters. A blazing torch lit up the figure at my door. A tall, gaunt figure in black, a face like a skeleton, a hand outstretched to me.

I scrambled for something to defend myself with as my eyes stayed locked on the monster of a man. My fingers coiled around one of my beakers; I threw it at the demon. He backhanded it into the wall and advanced. I grabbed an unused candelabrum and charged, yelling wildly as I swung at his head. He grabbed my wrist and constricted his grip until my weapon clattered on the ground, then he dragged me out of my room and down the hall.

"Release me!" I cried, hoping desperately someone would hear. "You monster! You fiend! Let me go!" He jerked me violently and continued the fast pace. I continued to yell and fight until I saw him.

Zexion stood at an open doorway; sleep in his eyes and his bedclothes disheveled. He looked at me in dull shock and said, "What a pity" before shutting himself back in his room, from where I knew I heard Lexaeus' voice.

It was then I stopped fighting, stopped yelling.

There was really nothing I could do.

And now I recollect passing the door to the outside. I hadn't been outside in months. I didn't think much of the fresh air; I had not really missed it. The wind picked up, blowing clouds about a moonless sky, causing the hedges before me to quiver in anticipation. Causing his hood to blow off.

The picture of hate was colored deep crimsion, and I faced the paradox of feeling betrayed by someone I considered my worst enemy.

"Axel."

He peeled off the mask of death, confirming my fears. Those marks were indisputably his, the stationary teardrops. Axel's firelight intensified his wicked grin. I believed them to be tears of joy.

My time is running shorter; I know not how much nor how little has passed and remains. I only hope that this will be found by someone someday, and that it will be found complete.

Reader, stranger, and friend, if you have attended my story thus far then I thank you from the remains of my heart. I dream and fantasize that there might be a chance to escape my fate, but it is no use, just as it was no use to my younger self as I was being hauled away into the labyrinth...

I only ask that you continue this narration until its conclusion, though it only gets worse from here on out. This is the only evidence that can ever be used to incriminate those monsters. I know this sounds to be a fabricated tale, but I speak the sincerest, most painful truth. I am ashamed, yet I write on. I am afraid, yet I write on. Not a single one of those monsters are ashamed or afraid, and yet they live as free men.

Justice, I beg you, please.

There is no hope to save me, I am damned as the rest and I've surrendered to my fate, just give me Justice.

Kill them, give me justice.

Kill him, give me peace.

Only criminals can be punished by law, and I have all their crimes here, in my memory. Take back the life I've lost in Castle Oblivion, in the Labyrinth where things go to never return.

Please, avenge me.

[End of Part Two


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